


You ran into the night; you can't be found

by thats_vexing



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:20:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thats_vexing/pseuds/thats_vexing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even as the weeks and months pass by, he is still very much aware of Atlantis’ inevitable fate. With each storm that occurs, he can’t help but think of a city lost under the ocean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You ran into the night; you can't be found

**Author's Note:**

> One day I will be able to write something without it turning into hurt/comfort… Today is not that day. We had some stormy weather on Christmas eve, so this happened. I finished it off waiting for the tv to be free so I can watch the series finale because I HAVEN’T YET. D:

"I've never seen a storm like it." Pythagoras comments over the roar of the wind as it whips down the streets outside of their house. The shutters do their best to keep out the rain and wind, but a small draft whistles through and makes the three of them shiver collectively, gathered around the small fire that they cook with.

Jason's heart leaps into his throat. Even as the weeks and months pass by, he is still very much aware of Atlantis' inevitable fate. With each storm that occurs, he can't help but think of a city lost under the ocean.

"Oh no, I've definitely seen worse," Hercules interjects, warming his hands over the fire. "Once, when I was a young lad, the wind was so strong, it picked up my family's goats and carried them into the night. We never found them again."

Pythagoras looks incredulous. "Did there happen to be drink involved when you saw the flying goats?"

Jason couldn't find it in himself to be amused by flying farm animals, consumed in his fears of the storm, listening to every surge of the wind, each splatter of rain. A gust of wind so strong whips one of the doors shut in the house, and the resulting bang startles him back down to earth, to where both his friends are watching him with matching expressions of concern.

"Jason?" Pythagoras says gently, "are you--"

"I'm fine." He says, too quickly, concentrating on keeping his heart rate at an acceptable level. Pythagoras is still frowning.  
"You aren't afraid of a little storm, are you?" Hercules offers unhelpfully.

"No, of course not!" He isn't afraid of storms, he's afraid of what might follow. But Jason can't tell his friends that, as much as he trusts them.

"Fancy that, Atlantis' hero, slayer of the Minotaur, frightened by some rain--"

"Hercules!" Pythagoras snaps.

Jason stands shakily, "I think I'll go to bed," he mutters, ignoring Pythagoras' scolding and Hercules' protests as he leaves to room. He can't let them find out why he is so scared of inclement weather; Jason envies them for their unawareness.   
However, sleep doesn't come to him easily, the wind still roars outside, and with each snap and rattle of the shutters he tries to bury his head in his bedding, and try not to think of what could happen.

\--

His feet are wet. Water is seeping up between his toes and it is ice cold, inching upwards. It begins to lap around his ankles and he searches for dry ground, higher ground, but there isn't any. It is flooded everywhere he looks and water splashes up and around him from where people are running past, screaming and crying. He doesn't know where to turn, it is dark and cold and every face that approaches is unfamiliar. The water is about his knees now, soaking into the material of his trousers, pulling him down and weighing him to the spot. He has to move, to go somewhere, anywhere, to escape, but his feet won't move and the water feels thick like treacle.

Someone grabs his arm, he tries to shake them off; a familiar voice urges "come on, come on!" so he tries to move, but his feet are still stuck, and their grip is slipping from his arm. Jason captures their wrist in both hands. "I can't," he says, the water beginning to lap at his hips, ice cold seeping up his torso.

They are trying to pull away now, still chanting "come on," his grip is loosening and he tries to plead with them, except the water has passed his chest, constricting until he can't speak. 

The surging tide wrenches them from Jason's grip, and he can only watch in horror as they are swept away.

"Pythagoras!"

\--

It takes a long time for Jason to come to the realisation that's he is safely in his room, gripping his blanket for dear life, but warm and dry.

The rumble of thunder that woke him continues to roll into the distance, dropping into a sinister growl that does nothing to help him slow his pounding heart. 

He sits up, buries his head in his hands, trying to shake the images from his head - Pythagoras being swallowed by icy, black water, eyes wide and hair wild, Pythagoras, now stood in his doorway and, oh god, he must have yelled out loud...

"Jason!" Pythagoras, disheveled by sleep, is by his side in an instant, trying to catch his eye.

"You're alright?"

"Yes, of course I am, what's wrong?"

"It was..." another clap of thunder tears through the air, and Jason tries to stomach the thrill of fear at that simple sound. "Just a dream, a nightmare. It's fine."

"You are not fine." Pythagoras says, inviting himself to sit on the edge of Jason's bed. He already knows Jason far too well.

Jason screws his eyes shut, and allows himself to fall forward onto Pythagoras' shoulder. It seems ridiculous now, his nightmare didn't make any sense, but it had seemed so real... 

"If it is to do with the storm, it's ok." Pythagoras says softly, he adjusts Jason's head so that he can wrap an arm around him, long fingers tracing patterns into his back. "There is no shame in it, we all have things we are scared of."

"It's not the storms that I'm afraid of." Jason mumbles into Pythagoras' collarbone. If he listens very intently, and the wind dies down enough, he can hear the other man's heartbeat. "It's something else." It's the fear of losing his home, his friends, especially this man who he has hoped for a while now could be something more.

"Don't worry about it now." Pythagoras' fingers stutter slightly. "Sometimes we are frightened by the strangest of things." Jason can't miss it now, the tightness in his voice, the gentle quiver in his hand, the way he had looked as he ran in, a picture of fear, just as in Jason's dream.

"Just now, you..." he can't bring himself to finish the sentence, scared that his assumption is wrong, but also afraid that he is right. 

"You scared me, Jason. I thought that you were hurt."

Jason raises his head slowly, he wants to apologise, but one look at Pythagoras it is evident that an apology wouldn't help. Instead, he presses forwards and leans their foreheads together. They share a breath, and Pythagoras' hand scrunches into a fist, holding him in place cautiously, neither pulling nor pushing. They hover for a moment like that, neither daring to move

"Jason," Pythagoras whispers, and his lips brush against Jason's as they shape his name. "Think about this, carefully."

Jason can't help the breath that escapes him, "I have."

Thunder rumbles again, this time more distant, and with a warm rush of bravery, Jason closes the gap between their lips. Kissing Pythagoras is unlike anything else that Jason has experienced, the mathematician is tentative, and his lips are dry from where his bites them too much when he concentrates, but he pulls Jason closer with the hand on his back. Jason's hand comes up to frame the other man's face, a gentle touch that asks Pythagoras to stay, and after wanting this for so long, Jason isn't sure if he can let go. Not when Pythagoras is nipping at his lips and getting more bold every second, his other hand snaking up to settle around the nape of Jason's neck, holding him firmly in place despite the light touch.

Jason pulls back just far enough to take a breath, before swallowing the soft whine of complaint from Pythagoras. "How long?" He manages breathlessly between kisses.

Pythagoras rests their foreheads together again, and his gentle pants mist against Jason's cheek. His eyes slip open slowly. "I don't remember. Probably the moment that you took that wretched black stone." Lightning flashes, and thunder cracks not long after, and Jason tenses, Pythagoras grunting in protest when he grabs his hip. "It's only a storm. It isn't what you think it is."

"I know." He doesn't need to open his eyes to see the strain and worry etched onto Pythagoras' face. He doesn't remember closing them. "But I can't tell you what it is. I'm sorry."

"That's alright. Just know that I am here for you if you need me." Jason lets his eyes drift open. He isn't wrong; Pythagoras looks almost pained to see his friend suffer. 

"You always have been." From the moment they met, concealing Jason from the guards, Pythagoras had always had his back and Jason tries to reciprocate, but he is pretty convinced that Pythagoras is the kindest, most generous man in the world. It's a tough act to follow, but he is still grateful for everything he does. He doesn't know what possesses him to follow that up with "Will you stay tonight?"

"If you wish." He hadn't actually expected Pythagoras to accept, so he blinks stupidly, despite it being his idea. "Don't worry about Hercules. He went to bed with a bottle of wine in his arms, it will be gone by the morning, and so will he." 

Jason lets out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Lighting illuminates the room again, making Pythagoras' eyes bright and his collarbones stand out more starkly than ever. The pause before the thunder is far longer now, but Jason still pulls Pythagoras close in a slightly awkward hug, from the way he is perched on the edge of the bed. Pythagoras' skin is chilled from the draughty air, "get in," Jason murmurs, "you're cold."

Pythagoras smiles gently and looks relieved; it makes Jason's heart clench, he knew that if he hadn't said anything, Pythagoras would have sat by his bedside all night until the wind chilled his bones. He pulls back the blanket to let the shivering man slip under the covers. The bed is only really designed for one person, so they lie face to face, pressed together at the chest and hip. Pythagoras tucks the covers over them with more care than was necessary, nuzzling into the crook of Jason's neck and dropping a chaste kiss there when he leans over.

"The storm is moving on," he mumbles into Jason's skin, "so you can get some sleep now."

Jason smiles. The rain still falls and the wind still batters the shutters, but under the blankets they are warm, dry and completely safe.


End file.
